First, Second, Third Fourth?
by WildwingSuz
Summary: Looking back on their years together with a twist.


My very first X-Files fanfic. This story takes place in the winter of 2007/08, and is based on what little has been seen of Mulder and Scully in the previews for the movie "The X-Files: I Want to Believe". Written June 2008, about a month before the movie release date.

**First, Second, Third... Fourth****?**  
By Suzanne L. Feld  
Rated PG-13 for adult situations

**Chapter I: **First

It was a nondescript little brown house at the end of a long driveway, surrounded by snowy fields on two sides and pine forest on the others. The nearest neighbor was some distance away, though the glow of a fairly large city showed on the horizon. Two vehicles sat in the driveway, the fact that they were both 4WD giving away the fact that this area was used to either bad weather or bad roads.

Most of the windows are dark even though dusk is drawing down swiftly on this winter night, but a dim light shines in the front of the house and a brighter one from a bay window on the side. Inside, a couple sits at a small round table with a large rectangular casserole dish in the center, most of the food it contained gone. A multicolored Tiffany-style lamp suspended over the table sheds bright but gentle light over them. The petite woman has long red hair, held neatly back in a tortoiseshell barrette, while the man is clearly tall and lanky even sitting, with tousled dark hair and worry lines etched around his eyes. The meal is almost done, pieces of bread scraping the last of the sauce from their plates, wide-bowl wine glasses mostly empty with a three-quarter-full bottle of merlot sitting off to one side.

"--and after that last screw-up they get the results to me as soon as they're done, none of that putting the file back in the rack and waiting until they have another reason to come upstairs."

He chuckles as she pauses, popping the last bite of garlic bread into his mouth. "You keep them hopping, Scully. It sounds like they needed someone to come along and kick their asses into line."

"I think once they realize I'm not going to be as lax as Dr. Michaels we'll all get along fine. So, any luck with the Stephens case?"

Mulder picks up his wineglass and twirls it idly by the stem. "I'm taking a break on it for a day or two, stepping back to get some perspective. I worked on Van Dyke today, although I'm pretty sure I know what I'm going to find there."

Scully nods, familiar with all his cases despite her new job and heavy workload. "So are you planning on working on anything tonight? It _is_ Friday and I'm not on call this weekend."

He looks up as she begins to gather up the plates, then puts down his glass without having sipped from it and helps clear the table. "Not unless you are. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Nothing other than maybe relaxing in front of the fire with a drink and the new McCarthy murder mystery which I bought two weeks ago and haven't had time to even pick up." Their movements around the small kitchen are easy, comfortable, familiar; it's clear that they've lived here for some time.

"Scully, you need to put your reading material in the bathroom like I do. How else do you think I keep up with the latest news?"

She gives him the first of what he privately calls The Look of the evening, although he's sure there will be more. "News! You call that news?! Mulder, the day I see you reading anything other than the National Enquirer or Sports Illustrated I'll probably keel over from sheer shock."

"Hey, I read the local papers online." The dishwasher begins to hum as he goes to the refrigerator and pokes around, then brings out a bottle of wine. "We've still got a couple bottles of Sauternes from Christmas", he suggests, holding up the dessert wine so she can see the label. "Mind if I join you in front of the fire?"

She grins, the smile lighting up her face. "Only if you don't bring The Enquirer with you."

***

A short time later he stands in the archway between the living and dining rooms watching her. In the last year or so Scully has decided it's her task to make the fire when they want one; this is a real fireplace, unlike the gas-fed one in her old apartment. This occurred after a cold November night when the power had gone out while he was away and he'd come home near midnight to find her wrapped in a blanket and cursing the cold, unlit fireplace. Now, watching her move with deliberate confidence and then flames springing up, he couldn't resist remarking, "It's a lot easier to build a fire that way than with disassembled bullets, isn't it?"

Without turning, still poking at the logs, she said, "As I recall, you didn't do any better than me. In fact, you didn't even try."

"Scully, do you remember the very first time we slept together?"

Now she does turn, one eyebrow raised, the fire iron in one hand with ash dropping gently from it onto the raised brick hearth. "Now what brought _that_ on?"

He grins lazily, folding his arms across his chest and leaning one shoulder against the cool plaster of the archway. "It's probably got something to do with the way you're bent over. So, do you remember?"

She turns back to the fire, putting the glass screen in place and hanging the iron on its metal rack before straightening and dusting her hands off. Hiding her smile from him, she says in a bored voice, "I think so. It was a long time ago." She can't resist glancing at him as she walks across the room towards the couch, where her book and glass of wine await. The look on his expressive face is priceless, surprise warring with disappointment. The laughter bubbles out of her as she detours over to him, going to wrap her arms around his lean waist and press herself against his warmth. "Do you really think I'd forget that?" she says into the gray cotton over his chest. His arms come around her shoulders and squeeze her back, and she hears the rumble of his chuckle deep in his chest before he speaks.

"You did have me, Scully. For just a minute there, you had me going."

***

A short time later they're settled in front of the fire, having removed some of the large, fluffy pillows from the couch to sit on. Mulder's leaning back against the couch with Scully curled between his legs, leaning her shoulder against his chest. His raised right knee, which is resting against a hassock, is her backrest. This is a familiar, comfortable position for them to have long talks in.

Her book appears to be forgotten, and there's no sign of a tabloid anywhere in sight.

The bottle of wine is within reach on a nearby end table, and all lights have been turned off except a small one in the kitchen, which adds its dim glow to the fire's flickering glow. Mulder gently tips his wineglass against hers and as the crystal rings, repeats his question in a lower, husky voice: "Do you remember the first time we made love?"

She smiles and takes a sip of the sweet wine, rolling it in her mouth a bit to get the full flavor. "How could I not remember, Mulder? Of course, the question really should be which time do you consider our first time? There was some distance between, oh, the first four or five times? It was like the first every time for a while there."

"Yeah, we did have some trouble getting our act together, didn't we?" He chuckles and kisses the top of her head lightly. "But the sex never was the problem, I think our over-analyzing the consequences is what caused all the trouble."

"I think that's basically right, Mulder," she says, looking thoughtfully at the fire. "But it was more than that, too. I think it was a series of misunderstandings that kept us apart more than over-analyzing. We simply didn't talk about it enough."

"Really? I think we might have talked too much but about the wrong things."

Scully turns to look up at him. "Then why don't you tell me what you think happened that first time? Why we didn't make love again for months after that?"

"Okay, then--"

–

January 1st, 2000: the new millennium. After their brief New Year's kiss, they walk to the parking lot with his arm around her. Mulder's on painkillers so Scully drives them in her car back to his place. His car has been left at Johnson's house and they decide to leave it there until the next day, when she'll drive him back to get it.

–

"Do you remember how awkward it was the next day when I drove you out there to get your car?"

Mulder chuckles. "I've had less tense moments with a gun to my head."

–

When they get to his building he pretends to be dopier than he really is--

–

"You really were drugged, you weren't pretending."

"Not as much as you thought; I was playing you."

"I'm the doctor, I should know!"

Mulder just smirks and goes on with the story.

–

When they get to the door of his apartment she has to hold him up and dig out her keys. Mulder takes this opportunity to put his hands where they shouldn't go under the guise of being drugged, and doesn't stop when she doesn't object--

–

"You only had your arm around my waist as I recall."

"And more."

"You did not!"

"I grabbed your ass and you didn't stop me."

"If you did, I let you because I thought you were pretty well out of it."

"Aha!" Mulder exclaims triumphantly.

Scully, disgruntled: "Oh, for crying out loud, Mulder, just go on."

–

Once inside, she kicks the door shut and starts to help him to the couch but he stops and with his left hand, takes her by the back of the neck and gives her a real kiss--

–

Mulder interrupts his narrative to add, "I knew I could do better than that lame kiss in the hospital."

"I _liked_ the kiss in the hospital!"

"So did I, but I certainly wasn't going to let it go at that."

"Neither was I, you just beat me to the punch."

Mulder is taken aback. "What?"

It was Scully's turn to smirk. "Go on, I want to hear what you think happened after that."

–

Despite the pain in his arm, he slips it out of sling and gets both arms around her, presses her to the wall next to the door. To his surprise, she's kissing him right back with equal enthusiasm--

–

"You were surprised that I responded?"

Mulder shrugs. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it. Remember, by that time there had been a few displays of affection between us—interrupted and/or pretending to be otherwise, such as in the batting lesson—and I didn't know for sure how you felt about me. You kept me at arms'-length."

"Yeah, I was confused about us—our relationship--for a long time. I was worried that if we took it a step further we'd lose our friendship. I always valued that more than a lover."

Mulder looks and sounds a little worried. "Really?"

Scully turns to look up at him, mildly exasperated. "Obviously, I don't anymore."

"True. Anyway..."

–

He can't help his arousal, knows she feels it, and waits to see if she'll object, move away, show him that she doesn't want this to go any further. When she doesn't, he takes the next step by sliding his hands up from her waist to cup her breasts. When that gets no objection, he breaks the kiss to look down at her and--

–

"I not only didn't object, I was urging you along."

"Between the drugs and how nervous and excited I was it's all kind of a blur to me after that."

"Not to me. I remember every moment."

Mulder raises his eyebrows down at her. "_Every_ moment?"

"Yep. Especially breaking the table."

He grins. "We did, didn't we?!"

Scully glares up at him. "Don't tell me you forgot that! What about your eidetic memory?"

"I told you, much of what happened after we got in the door was a blur. I was rather involved with what else was going on."

She snickers. " 'What else was going on' caused us to break the table."

Mulder's still grinning. "So it did. Why don't you tell me from here, Scully?"

She smiles up at him. "You _were_ a mass of half-conscious hormones by the time we got past getting our shirts off."

"I always did wonder how we ended up mostly naked, because I don't remember taking anything off."

–

She looks up when he breaks the kiss, his hands on her breasts, hers on his waist urging him even closer though you couldn't slide a sheet of paper between them--

–

"A sheet of paper?!"

Scully lifts her left arm, which was resting against his stomach, and cocks it threateningly. "It's my version now, let me tell it!"

He throws an arm up as if to ward off her blow—he clearly knows that she means what she's only threatening at this point. "Okay, okay!"

–

He looks down at her, then rests his forehead against hers. "Scully, are you sure you want this? It's not too late--"

–

"What, was I kneeling?"

"What do you mean?"

With a smirk on his face Mulder says, "To put my forehead against yours. I was either bent over or kneeling, because you're not exactly Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, you know."

Sully makes good on her threat from earlier and elbows him none-too-gently on the left shoulder; he winces but doesn't let go of her. "That's what _I_ remember, smartass!"

He relents and gives her a little hug back against him, both arms wrapped around her. "Okay, tell it your way. Although the hitting does turn me on."

She gives him The Look again. "And then--"

–

"--to change your mind if this isn't really what you want," he finished rather breathlessly. Scully leans back, considers several answers, and instead decides that since he's a man, action is a better option than talk. So it's her turn to take his face in her hands and give him the most explicit kiss she can, putting everything she's felt for him for the past seven years into it--

–

"Hey, I do remember _that_. You just about singed my eyebrows off with that kiss. Didn't shirts come off shortly afterward?"

Scully nods, smiling. "_Very_ shortly."

–

He gets the message. Vaguely she feels him pushing her jacket off, then lifting the black shell top beneath and fiddling with her bra. By the time she has to break for air, she's pretty much topless and he's not. She yanks the shell top the rest of the way over her head, flings the unclipped bra off of her arms, then turns to him. First the sling goes, then she carefully and gently eases the grey t-shirt over his head and bandaged arm, saying almost breathlessly, "How bad is the arm, Mulder? Should we--" This time her answer is an equally explicit kiss, along with enough groping to make her certain that the arm isn't going to be a problem in the upcoming activities. She's vaguely thinking of the couch at this point, but clearly Mulder has other ideas. To her surprise, he suddenly kicks a chair away then lifts her by the waist like she weighs nothing onto the edge of the dining room table. Then they're both fumbling with pants buttons and zippers.

–

" 'Fumbling', Scully?"

"What would you call it?"

"I'd like to think I was suave and practiced when I finally got you out of your pants."

Scully can't help her smirk. "Even if you thought you were, trust me, _we_ weren't. We were fumbling, Mulder, just like most first-time lovers when the moment strikes without plans beforehand."

"Whatever, you're finally getting to the good part." He settles back, picks up his wineglass with a light of anticipation in his eyes.

She's acting mildly exasperated, more playacting than serious. "Then quit interrupting me!"

Mulder smiles over her head, enjoying her annoyance. Never hurts to keep her on her toes; she certainly does enough of that to him. "Keep going, keep going."

–

Pants slid to ankles, underwear followed—then Mulder paused again to look deep into her eyes, breathing deeply and holding her by the shoulders. "Point of no return, Scully—are you sure?"

–

Indignantly, Mulder protests, "I did _not_ stop and say that!"

"Yes you did!"

"I did not. Seriously. I was too far gone at that point."

She says sarcastically, "So you'd have kept going even if I'd tried to stop you?"

"Of course not! But I didn't stop and _ask_ you—I was just paying attention to your body language."

Scully almost chokes on a sip of wine. " 'Body language'? You make it sound like you were interrogating a suspect."

He leers down at her, making sure she sees him. "Oh no, I _mean_ body language—and where your hands were made everything pretty clear to me, Scully."

She turns to look up at him, smiling. "You obviously remember more than you're said you do."

He grins down at her in surrender. "Don't stop now!"

–

Her answer was to reach down and grasp him with one hand, the other curling around his hip and urging him closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist and, both hands now free as he was much closer to her, brought his head down to hers. "Was there ever any doubt?" she whispers against his lips as they finally join.

–

"You were _not_ talking at that moment!"

Her voice husky with memory, Scully says quietly, "Oh yes I was."

"And what was _I_ doing?"

–

His answer was to groan and kiss her deeply as they began to rock the table. She vaguely noticed that it seemed unsteady beneath her, but was too busy with what was _finally_ happening to--

–

"Oh, come on, Scully! You did _not_ notice that the table was wobbly!"

Sarcastically she snaps, "Didn't your mind-reading powers go away after you were brought back from the dead?!"

Mulder realizes that he's beginning to really piss her off and makes the conscious decision to back down before he ruins their evening, which has been pretty enjoyable so far. "Okay, maybe you did."

"I only noticed it very vaguely in the back of my mind, and wouldn't remember having thought about it if the table hadn't collapsed just a few moments later."

He laughs outright and gives her a hug. "It's a miracle neither of us got hurt."

She grins up at him with a devilish twinkle in her eye. "It's even more of a miracle that we managed to finish."

–

They lay in the remains of the table afterward, Scully sprawled on top of him; how Mulder had managed to flip them around as they fell was a mystery to her. He'd taken the brunt of the fall on his back and barely missed a stroke. The top of the table had stayed intact, which was what they were laying on, and pieces of the legs appeared to be scattered throughout the kitchen and foyer. Though languid and sated, a piece of wood was poking her in the knee and she had to get up. As she carefully got to her feet, she glanced down to see Mulder sitting up and smiling at her, and at the look in his eyes her heart lurched.

–

Mulder smiles and rests his chin on the top of her head. "Did your heart really lurch?"

Scully gives his hands, which are crossed around her waist, a squeeze. "It did. And you don't need to be a mind-reader to know that. Although, I have to admit, mind-reading might have helped the next few minutes."

–

She helped him out of the remains of the table, careful of his shoulder, now avoiding his eyes as she doesn't feel ready to deal with those emotions just quite yet. The look on his face laid his heart bare to her, and she doesn't know what to say or do in response. They both straightened their clothing and replaced what was missing, Scully finding most of hers scattered around the foyer, her bra hanging from the closet doorknob.

–

"That's a hell of a detail to remember, Scully."

"It was a hell of a New Year's night, Mulder."

–

When she turns around, fully dressed, Mulder's standing by the sink with just his pants on, peering down and picking gingerly at the bandage on his shoulder. The doctor in her rises to the fore and she hurries to him, stepping over and kicking aside scattered pieces of the table legs, and pushes his hand aside. "Let me look at that, Mulder, we may have torn it open", she says as she peels back a corner of the bandage. A few drops of blood mar the outside of the gauze and when the ragged, lightly sutured wound comes into sight she sees that he has, indeed, torn it open and it's bleeding enough to trickle down his bare arm. "Go sit on the couch while I get supplies to clean this up and re-bandage it," she orders, and starts to turn away. But his hand on her arm stops her and she looks up at him uncertainly. "So that's it?" he asks, frowning slightly. "Our itches got scratched and that's that? Back to the old status quo?"

–

Scully pauses and turns to look up at him. "That _is_ what you said, isn't it?"

He nods, looking pensive. "Yeah, or something equally moronic. I was not at my best—but I blame the drugs. I'm not normally that clueless _or_ stupid."

She gives his hands another squeeze. "I'll agree with that."

–

Scully shakes her head slightly, more in disbelief than disagreement. Her heart sinking, she looks away from him. So he didn't want anything more? Fine, she was no stranger to the rare one-night-stand herself; she _had_ gone to college and med school. "We'll talk about that later. Right now I need to look at your shoulder before it gets any worse." He didn't say anything else while she took care of the wound, re-bandaging it and giving him two more Tylenol Threes with a glass of water to take for the pain, and she continues to avoid his eyes. Leaving him sitting on the couch with his arm back in the sling, she goes into the bathroom to wash her hands and freshen up and when she comes out he's sound asleep, slumped to one side on the familiar old brown leather couch where she's seen him sleeping so many times before.

–

"If only I hadn't fallen asleep like that...!"

"You'd been attacked by zombies, Mulder, and then had strenuous exercise on top of it. Not to mention the meds that made you act so stupid, and my misunderstanding what you said on top of all that."

He's taken aback and stares down at her. "Stupid?"

She grins saucily up at him. "_You_ said it not two minutes ago."

Mulder laughs and gives her a little hug. "I did, didn't I."

–

She covers him with the brown and white Indian blanket on the end of the couch and gets her things together, shrugging into her jacket by the door and gazing at the broken table in the kitchen. Although she considers staying, he should be fine and really doesn't need her. It's clear that he doesn't want their relationship to go to the next step despite the sex, and she'll respect that. There is no reason they can't remain friends; she'll never forget it, probably yearn for it to happen again, but she can pretend like it didn't happen if that's what he wants.

–

"We were certainly confused."

Scully leans a little closer to his warmth. "Thanks for the 'we', Mulder."

–

She calls to check on him the next morning after a mostly-sleepless night and he sounds the same as ever; no mention is made of what happened the night before or even the broken table. They talk little on the way to get his car from Johnson's remote house, and even less at work either in the office or in one of the many forgettable Bureau pool cars. Scully finds as many excuses as she can to put distance between them, but to her annoyance finds herself watching him when he's unaware. When she does go to his apartment a week or so afterward to drop off a file he forgot, the first thing she notices is that there are no signs of the broken table but it has, however, been replaced with a small, heavy wooden table that, she can't help but notice, has four solid legs. Neither of them mention it and she bolts out of there as fast as she can. Weeks go by, and she is torn between respecting his wishes and being furious that he can ignore what happened between them so easily.

–

"I was pretty damn upset when I cleaned up that broken table."

Scully looks up at him and smiles. "But you had the presence of mind to buy a sturdier one to replace it."

He smiles back down at her. "I never gave up hope that we'd work things out."

"And so we did... eventually!"

"So I guess that leads to the second time, which—at least for me—was as memorable as the first."

"So, you want to give me your take on this one since you chickened out on the last one?"

Mulder gives her a squeeze. "Sure, we have lots of firewood and wine. And I don't think the picturesque snowfall is going anywhere." He gestures to the large windows where falling snow is illuminated by the faint light from their windows.

Scully stretches to nuzzle his throat. "Ah, Mulder, you're so romantic and yet so practical."

**Chapter II:** Second

Months went by without any resolution or mention of their impulsive lovemaking, but it was never far from his mind. He was afraid that if he brought it up, however, it would cause problems between them that he didn't want to deal with, especially if it chased her away.

–

"You really thought I'd walk if you tried to talk to me about it?"

Mulder shrugs. "I didn't see it being outside the realm of possibility. You'd run from me before."

Scully is outraged. "And when was this?"

"We could start with the hallway and the bee sting, but how about I finish what I was saying?"

She huffs quietly, stretching her legs beneath his bent knee. "Fine. But we'll get back to it."

–

Things got more and more tense in the office, and it came to a head when she ignored his presentation on crop circles and refused to go to England with him to check them out. Mulder had finally had enough, and stormed off with every intention of having it out with her when he returned. But to his surprise, Scully seems to be more relaxed and open to him, less tense and wound up, when he came back and found her at the hospital. When she later explained what had happened with her ex-lover, Mulder finally got it.

–

"Just what exactly did you 'get'?"

"I'm getting to that! Now _you're_ interrupting _me_ every other word."

Scully smirks up at him. "Payback."

–

He finally understands why she had pulled back and away from a deeper relationship with him; after what she'd been through with Waterston, it looked like she hadn't been sure she was ready for something more than friendship.

–

Scully crosses her arms and looks up at him. "So that's what you thought, is it?"

Mulder nods and meets her eyes seriously. "Yes, I did."

She shrugs a little. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we just had a misunderstanding that first time."

He's still holding her eyes. "Either way, it kept us apart for longer than I care to remember."

She looks pensively up at him, the corner of her mouth curling. "Then continue on with _your_ version of the second time."

He settles back, shifts her a little, and continues.

–

When she fell asleep on his couch later that evening, Mulder felt confident that they would work out their complicated relationship the next day. Clearly she was back to trusting him and now that the ex he hadn't known about was out of the way, he had no intention of leaving things as they were. Maybe a romantic candlelight dinner after work at that new bistro over on M street that he'd been hearing about in the cafeteria...

–

"Really? You were going to take me out for a romantic dinner? With silverware and matching plates and waiters and everything?" Scully says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiles down at her. "I was even going to bring you flowers."

She smiles up at him in return, then glances over at the bouquet of pink carnations on the mantel. "Like you do so often now."

He nods, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. "And that's one reason that I do. I'm making up for the first time I didn't get to, even if it _was_ your fault."

She gives him a little glare. "I'm not rising to that bait, Mulder. I've told you before why I left the way I did."

"I know now, but I didn't then. Can I go on with the story from my point of view?"

Scully nods and takes a sip of wine. Although it's now warm and they really could use a fresh bottle, she doesn't want to get up and break the mood just yet.

–

He tucks a strand of hair out of her face, thinking about how beautiful she is and how much she means to him and what he can do to show as well as tell her. He covers her up with the warm wool Navajo blanket and, completely lost in thought, wanders off into his bedroom. The mysterious waterbed has been replaced with a more sedate frame bed, the mirrored tiles removed from the canopy, and he's even bought an extra set of sheets in the hope that someday she'll be sharing it with him.

–

"That waterbed, Mulder... every time I think about it, I get an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like we dodged a bullet or something."

Mulder nods. "Me too. Frohike swore to the day he died that they had nothing to do with it, but only the Gunmen and you had keys to my apartment and you were with me, so... but anyway--"

–

He undresses and climbs into bed while still lost in thought, oblivious to the fact that he hasn't put on pajamas or even the sweats that he sometimes sleeps in. Laying in the quiet room, listening to the light scrape of branches on the window, he wishes he could hear Scully's breathing but just knowing she's in the other room helps him doze off.

–

"So much for your insomnia, eh, Mulder?"

He nuzzles the top of her head. "I think it was a mutual cure. You were always up when I used to call you at one a.m. just to talk."

"I've never had insomnia or any other sleeping problems. I've _always_ slept like a baby," she says firmly.

Mulder considers bringing up the nightmares she's admitted that she's had after Bogs, Donny Pfaster, Tooms, Duane Berry, and some other of their more gruesome or personal cases, but decides that silence is, indeed, golden at this point in time.

–

He wakes to an odd noise, then recognizes the sound of a door closing. Remembering that Scully fell asleep on the couch he assumes she's awakened and left and, disappointed, gets up to use the bathroom. A glance at the clock on the dresser lets him know that it's barely midnight, and he expects to be up for some time. But just as he reaches the bedroom door without turning on a light, a voice comes out of the darkness. "Mulder? Sorry I woke you", Scully says, and he spots her slender form standing a few feet away. "I heard a door close", he says groggily, "and I thought it was you leaving." He can just make out her smile in the dimness as she comes closer saying "No, I just needed to use the bathroom, and, uh..." She's stopped less than a foot away, her face now unreadable in the shadows. It's then that he realizes that he's standing there stark naked and with that realization, his body immediately begins to betray him—quite obviously to them both.

–

"Yeah, I had no doubt you were glad to see that I hadn't left."

He laughs. "It was kind of embarrassing at the time."

"I don't see why. I took it as a compliment, and still do."

Mulder smiles down at her. "That's how it's always meant."

–

When she walks over to him and puts her arms around him, snuggling into his warmth, her cheek against his bare chest, Mulder almost can't believe it. But he's not so muzzy with sleep that he doesn't react, slipping his arms around her and resting his cheek on top of her soft hair. "Don't go, Scully", he almost whispers, still afraid she'll leave if he pushes too fast. "I thought you'd never ask", she replies, muffled, and lifts her head to kiss him. Still tangled together, they make their way to the bedroom where she steps away and removes her jacket, tossing it on the foot of the bed. He watches avidly as the rest of her clothes follow, and takes her hand to draw her to him and down into the softness of pillows and still-warm bedclothes.

–

Scully says quietly, "I could feel the heat coming off you in waves and I didn't even think about what I did next. Touching you was like embracing a sun, and the most natural thing I've ever done in my life."

He leans down to kiss her, and her face tilts up to him just like it did all those years ago. "I'm glad you came to me, but I'd have gone to you if you hadn't. I wasn't letting you leave that night if I could help it once I realized you were still there."

–

He wakes to the alarm the next morning tangled in the covers, his first thought being of the incredible night they'd shared. There was no way she was going to get out of talking about how they felt about each other, he thought even before his eyes were open, reaching for the other side of the bed, but it was cold and empty. Hoping she's still in the apartment he gets up and wanders around, but every trace of her is gone except for her empty mug next to his on the coffee table.

–

"Do you want to hear my side of it--again?"

He shakes his head. "You don't have to. I'm over waking up alone, feeling like a frat boy the morning after a wild party, used and abused." Mulder's smirk is pretty clear at this point.

Scully pretends to be outraged and sits up straight. "Used and abused! I'd hit you again if I didn't know you liked it so much."

Mulder chuckles. "I guess it was a pretty even night, at that."

She relaxes against him, grinning. "Five to four in my favor, as I recall. But who's counting?"

–

While walking from the front door of the Hoover building to the elevator later that morning he's stopped by Skinner's secretary and told to meet Scully in the garage, where she's waiting with a Bureau car. They're to immediately meet the A.D. at a protected witnesses house. He then remembers to turn his cell on, and spends the drive out there clearing out his full voicemail box and returning calls while she drives most of the way. The case is so hectic that they don't have time to talk and by the time they might have, he was in the hospital having mutant tobacco beetles sucked out of his lungs.

–

"And I'd rather not think about that."

"Me either! I've never felt as helpless as I did while watching you gasping for breath." She shudders.

Mulder curls his arms around her shoulders and gives her a light squeeze. "I never want to feel like that again; I was terrified I'd die without talking to you."

"And we never _did_ really talk about it at that time."

"Probably because I couldn't talk for almost two weeks after you doctor types kept shoving tubes down my throat."

"That, and by the time you were able to I wasn't sure what to say anymore."

"And that takes us to the third time. What a lead-in, Scully."

**Chapter III:** Third

Several months later: he takes one look at her face and knew that the procedure hadn't worked; she hadn't been able to get pregnant with the ova he'd saved from that despicable warehouse. As he enfolded her in his arms, feeling her body shake with sobs, Mulder knew that if there was anything in his power to fix this, he wouldn't hesitate to do it. Not only because this was his fault for everything that had happened to her since she'd first began working with him, but because of how much he loved her.

–

She turns to look up at him, frowning slightly. "Are we going to start with that fault stuff again?"

Mulder shakes his head. "No, but let me tell it my way, okay?"

"Fair enough. But let me get another bottle of wine before you start."

He looks in surprise at the empty bottle on the end table beside them, then at the dregs in the bottom of their glasses on the floor nearby. They were going through expensive wine like it was soda, and to his surprise he only felt a little buzzed. "Thirsty tonight, aren't we?"

"Talking's thirsty work, as you should well know."

Ten minutes later, after bathroom breaks and a cold bottle has been brought in and fresh glasses poured, they settle back into the same positions. "So, you were saying?"

"Are you sure you want to talk about this, Scully? I know how painful it is for you."

"Not as bad as it was before I got pregnant with William. At least we had him for a time, and we know he's safe."

Mulder, hearing the pain in her voice, holds her tighter. "Still sure you don't want to go looking for him? Remember, I am a licensed professional P.I. now. I'm sure I could find him."

"No." It was said firmly and without rancor or anger. "I know he's well-loved and taken care of where he is, and we can only bring disruption to his life."

"So you couldn't just watch him from afar."

Scully shakes her head, a few strands of russet hair that have escaped from the barrette falling over one shoulder. "I know I couldn't. I'd rather live with how I think he is than to see him and not be able to go near him. I know that from having gotten to know Emily before she died."

"Fair enough." He pauses to take a sip of wine. "So where was I...?"

–

He didn't plan on starting anything, but when she raised her tearstained face to his there was no way he could stop from kissing her. Their bodies were tightly pressed together and he couldn't have let go of her had someone put a gun to his head.

–

"Even me?"

"_Only_ you."

–

This time was as madly passionate and frantic as their first time, and they barely made it to the couch never mind the bedroom. The previous time in his bed had been calm, more deliberate, deeply sensual and loving; exploring each other's bodies for hours and then dozing off to wake up and do it all over again. This time there was no undressing except for what was needed, no taking the time to watch each other, no whispered words of love in the dark.

–

Scully was blushing so slightly he can barely notice it, but he does. "Yeah, you, uh, you have it about right. We were like two rutting animals."

Mulder's smiling. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Well, nothing, I guess."

"But it's not our usual M.O., you mean."

She bursts out laughing. "M.O.? You've been in law enforcement too long, Mulder."

He grins down at her. "It fits, though."

"I guess it does at that. So, for the record, yes it's not our preferred M.O. although it certainly can be fun once in a while."

–

Afterward he shifted them around so that she was laying with her back to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, having no plans on letting her go this time. She mumbled something about staining her light-colored couch, but he ignored it and just held her tight. Before he could speak, he heard/felt her breathing change and realized that she'd gone to sleep, probably exhausted after the emotional highs and lows of the day.

–

"You do that on me a lot, you know."

She pops his knee with her fist. "It's not like you've never fallen asleep on me!"

Grinning, he captures her fist, unrolls it, and kisses her palm. "Not as many times as you have."

She pretends to not be touched by the gesture. "I'm not going to argue that because I really don't know. And neither do you."

Mulder decides that this is another really good opportunity to keep his mouth shut on the smartass remark that may get her truly angry at him.

–

After about half an hour he has to get up, he's not sleepy after his earlier nap and his left arm has gone to sleep. He doesn't want to wake her, but figures that if he does he'll pin her down to a talk. But even after dislodging her and climbing over her, she just rolls over towards the back of the couch and snuggles down, still sound asleep. Smiling slightly, he picks her up and carries her to the bedroom, removing what he can of her tangled clothes without waking her and then closing the door quietly behind him, leaving her to sleep.

–

"And you then spent the night renting Pay-Per-View movies!"

"At least there were no X-rated ones. And I paid you back."

"I still think you should have asked me first."

Mulder is mildly exasperated. "I worked so hard to not wake you up and now you tell me that I should have? You only had HBO at the time; even _I_ can only watch 'American Pie' so many times. Cut me a break here, Scully."

–

It's close to 3 a.m. by the time he's sleepy enough to consider bed and Mulder doesn't hesitate. He strips down and crawls in with her, smiling when she cuddles up to him and they spoon like on the couch. He goes to sleep happier than he can remember being in a long time, and then wakes up with a willfully passionate woman in his arms who, it appears, has had enough of trying to deny what they mean to each other and shows him physically.

–

Scully turns to look at the fireplace and makes sure that her voice is cold and deliberately sounds angry. "So now you're saying that _I_ was in denial. A little while ago _we_ were confused, now it's _my_ fault?"

Mulder's unable to see her face and feeling on shaky ground, like when they were running in the Antarctic and the snowy ground fell right out from beneath their feet. "I'm just telling you what I thought at the time."

She can't stand it anymore and turns to smile up at him. "I know you are—and you're far too gullible, Mulder."

He can't resist leaning down to kiss her. "Where you're concerned, yes I am."

–

After they each showered and he dressed in yesterday's clothes, Mulder insisted on taking her out to breakfast. It was a gorgeous early June morning, the air balmy with just a hint of cool, the trees mostly leafed out and not yet as hot and muggy as it would get even just two weeks later. They walked to a Starbuck's a few blocks from Scully's apartment and discussed nothing of importance over their coffee and muffins, Mulder so far content to wait and not push the talking part—although he was also determined to clear the air before the day was over. But Scully was so relaxed and no longer as upset over yesterday's news that he just didn't have the heart to bring up anything serious.

–

"I remember that pretty clearly too. You had a regular coffee, I had a cinnamon latte, and we both got the low-fat blueberry muffins."

Mulder can't resist quoting from one of their favorite movies: " 'I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.' "

Scully laughs and adds, " 'How nice, you remembered' ".

He knew that it wasn't the right line, but also knew better than to correct her. "We should watch that later."

She glances at the clock over the fireplace. "Tomorrow maybe. It _is_ getting late, and even if we don't have work tomorrow I wouldn't mind a decent night's sleep for once."

"Spoilsport."

–

When they get back to her apartment Scully is suddenly nervous, puttering around and not saying much. Mulder knows he should probably go home and change clothes, but also knows that if he leaves now, he risks both of them going back to the previous arrangement. And there's no way in heaven or hell he's going to let _that_ happen. Instead he gently draws her over to the couch and sits facing her--

–

"Matter of fact, much like Eddie Van Blundt and I were sitting before you came barging in just in the nick of time, Mulder." Scully can't help the shudder that racks her, remembering.

"That was about the creepiest thing I have ever seen in my life, him leaning over you with my face. Ugh."

"How do you think _I_ feel? I would have let him kiss me, thinking it was you!"

"Really? You've never said before."

"It wouldn't have gone any further, trust me, but yeah, thinking it was you I was going to let you—him—kiss me. Your timing was superb."

He can't resist teasing, "You sure it wouldn't have gone any further? He had a pretty good track record of getting laid when wearing other people's faces."

Scully glances up at him. "Oh, I'm sure. I hadn't drunk that much wine and in all honesty, I hadn't really thought about you that way yet. I did after that, though."

"That early? I should have jumped your bones sooner. Look at all the time we wasted!"

–

Mulder knows that the best way to deal with Scully is to be direct and honest. She's made it clear for many years that she hates lying and subterfuge both on and off the job, so he just takes her hand and blurts out what's on his mind.

--

"Do you remember what I said, Scully?"

"I don't have your memory, but yes I do. Word for word."

–

"Agent-slash-Doctor Dana Scully, you are stuck with me in your life unless, of course, you don't want to be. Otherwise I'm not only your partner and your best friend, I'm now also your full-time lover, and whatever else you need me to be. So if that's not in your plans, you'd better let me know right now. I've loved you for a long time and don't think I'll stop anytime soon." He waits expectantly, starting back into the wide blue eyes that seem to be glued to his. Next thing he knows his lap and arms are full of her, and her answer is pretty clear.

–

In singsong voice Mulder adds, "And we lived happily ever after."

Scully looks up at him seriously. "I don't believe in happily-ever-after, Mulder, but the last few years have been the best of my life." She then drops her eyes and adds, sotto voice, "If it lasts—and I have a funny feeling it won't."

He takes the wineglass from her hand and sets it some distance away. "I can take a hint when I hear one, you don't have to hit me over the head. Or even shoot me."

As he tips her over onto the carpeted floor and rolls partly on top of her Scully says, "What, we're not going to go over the fourth time?"

He's clearly baffled as he looks down at her. "Fourth? You mean there on the couch after I finally told you how I felt?"

"No, I mean in the motel room in New Mexico. After you escaped from the Air Force compound and we went on the run, remember?"

Mulder sits back up cross-legged and lifts her by the hands to face him. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Scully."

"Men. So fickle."

**Chapter IV**: Fourth

They had driven so long that Scully was afraid that by the time they stopped, she'd be unable to get out of the car under her own power. But she knew that they had to get as far from the ruins as possible, even if they were still going the exact opposite way that had been recommended. Finally Mulder turned into the driveway of a small motel with a rather garish neon sign, the type of sign Scully remembered from her childhood travels back and forth across the country in the late '70s and early '80s as her family went from Naval base to Naval base. She got out of the Suburban with Mulder, groaning as she stretched her stiff back and shook out cramped legs, then went into the motel office with him. She watched as he signed the register "Mr & Mrs Petrie"--no surprise there—and went over to the soft drink machine in the corner to get them Diet Cokes while he paid and got the key.

–

"I remember all this, Scully, where are you going?"

"Trust me, Mulder, I'm getting there."

–

He drove the big black truck over to the room and she walked, needing the exercise even if it was just a couple hundred yards or so to the far end of the L-shaped motel building. By the time she got there he was already inside, the door ajar. The three large shopping bags of supplies they'd picked up a few hours ago at a Wal-Mart in the middle of nowhere were on the floor at the foot of the bed. Sprawled across the king-sized bed on his back was Mulder, arms flung wide, his shirt pulled up allowing a wide strip of pale, bare skin with a line of dark hair to show above the waistband of his jeans. Scully couldn't take her eyes from that expanse, the main thought in her head that it had been years since they'd made love despite his staying with her for a time right after William was born. She'd been in no condition for anything sexual then and by the time she was he was long gone, safely far away. She set the Cokes on the dresser to the right of the door, closed it, and headed for the bathroom, determined despite her thoughts to clean up before anything else. She'd never felt so grimy in her life, not even after waking up in the Antarctic covered in green alien pod goo.

–

"Now I know where you're going."

"Going to let me finish telling it?"

"From your point of view? I'm dying of curiosity."

–

But as she was crossing the room she was tugged over to the bed by the back of her shirt. "Mulder, I need a shower", she objected weakly, turning into his arms. He sat on the edge of the bed and just held her, arms around her waist, head against her breasts. Scully kept her arms down, worried about how she smelled as she hadn't had a shower in two days, but cradled his head to her, running her fingers through the remembered softness of his hair.

–

"Really? Trust me, Scully, you smelled _wonderful _even before your shower that day. No offense, but especially after that pissy room where they kept me for a week. The whole place smelled like someone had whizzed on the radiators or something."

She chuckles. "No offense taken, I know what you mean."

–

On one hand she could have stood there all day, but on the other she desperately needed to get clean before anything else. When she tried to move away, however, his arms only tightened and then he flipped her onto the bed, his body covering hers. Her protests regarding the desperate need of hot water and soap were not only ignored, they were muffled beneath his mouth as he gave her a kiss that should have lit the entire motel on fire.

–

"Keep in mind that all that kept me going during the years we were apart, Scully, was thoughts of you and William. And the thoughts of you were very often erotic whether or not I wanted them to be."

She tilts her head at him inquiringly.

"Sometimes I just wanted to remember what you looked like day-to-day: down in our office bent over a microscope, or walking on the Mall in the autumn with your hair matching the leaves. But then I'd remember what you looked like beneath me, or recall the sound of your voice crying out in passion, or even sleeping naked next to me."

Scully knows that her eyes are growing a little misty and clears her throat. "You're waxing quite poetic there, Mulder."

"I'd have gone crazy--again--without those memories to sustain me."

"Me too. I had my share as well while we were apart, believe me."

"And so when we got to the motel room I simply couldn't wait any longer."

–

When Mulder's hands begin to explore, Scully has no strength or desire to stop him no matter what condition she's in. Dirty, clean, slimed, whatever, she wants him as badly as he obviously needs her. This time is a hodgepodge of the roughest, most uninhibited times they've been together and the slow, rolling, romantic ones; both wild and hard as well as soft and loving and sweet, an incredible mix of both that she never wants to end. When it does, as it must, they manage to shower together and end the evening sitting on the bed talking before dozing off twined together on top of the covers, exhausted, sated, and simply content to be together again no matter what happens from here on out.

–

He smiles into her eyes with the shared memory. "Now I see why you consider it the fourth time."

Scully takes the wineglass from his hand and moves it aside. "I think our reminiscing is done, Mulder. Time to make new memories."

He lets her roll him on his back and smiles up into her eyes as she slides on top of him. "Something to add to one through four?"

Scully smiles as she bends to kiss him. "Let's make a five."

_Finis_


End file.
